Spitting Cherry Pits
by Evil Shall Giggle
Summary: ...because he taught me how to laugh, how to love, how to cry, how to hate, and how to forgive. A series of events, scattered throughout a life fully, but not well lived. AtrisExile
1. How to Laugh

Disclaimer: I think that I don't own Star Wars goes without saying, and so does that I'm making absolutely no profit other than my own amusement from this.

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Atris sat quietly on a rock twice her size, trailing chubby six-year-old fingers in the water of the pond. She stared absently down at the ripples she made in the clear liquid, wondering why Master Vandar had put her in the meditations class that was a year below her. She wasn't bad at it, she just had better things to do and think about. Like memorizing history texts and practicing her lightsaber forms.

_P__eh-too!_ Some small object sailed past her shoulder and landed in the water, making a tiny splash. She whirled around to search for the source of the projectile, and came face to face with one of the boys in her meditations class. What was his name again? She did a quick run-through of all the children's names alphabetically, listing them off and giving each one a face until she came to this bantha-brain. Lyrin. Lyrin Arin. Poor thing, she thought vaguely, what a name.

"What do you want?" she demanded. He came toward her and crouched on the rock beside her, greyish eyes peering at her from under long lashes. He had black hair, kept in the standard padawan style, but none of that mattered. Atris refocused her attention on waiting for his response.

"Want a cherry?" he asked with a wide smile, offering a container of them to her.

"No, thank you," she said and turned her gaze back on the water.

"Okay," he said easily and was silent for a moment, and then, "Watcha doin'?"

"I'm thinking," she said testily. "Something much better done in silence. Alone."

"You can't think on an empty stomach," he informed her, popping another little red fruit into his mouth. A moment later, he spit the seed into the pond. "Want a cherry?"

"No," she said firmly, "And don't do that. It's not good."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it isn't," she told him. "Now go away."

"You're hungry," he declared.

She stared at him. "Why would I be hungry?"

"Because you got annoyed easily," he said simply. "Want a cherry?"

"If I have a cherry, will you go away?" she asked, taking measured breaths to keep herself from becoming angry.

He shook his head. "But I'll just keep asking if you don't."

"Why do you care if I have a cherry or not?" she questioned.

"'Cause I like cherries," he said as if it explained everything. When it was made obvious by her expression that it did not, he continued, "And I like sharing things I like. Want one?"

"Fine," she agreed at last and took a cherry from his container. She bit into it and then used a fingernail to dig out the seed, which she deposited carefully onto the rock so that she would remember to throw it out later. He stared at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking appalled, his nose scrunched up and his forehead pulled into a frown.

"Taking the seed out," she said, eating the rest of the berry.

"You're s'posed to do it with your mouth," he said as though it was extremely obvious. "Then you gotta spit it as far as you can."

"I prefer my method, thank you," she said, and turned her face away.

"Aw, come on," he said, "just try it."

"Why don't you bother someone else?" she asked irritably. "I'm busy."

"You're just sitting there," he pointed out, "not even reading or nothing."

"I'm thinking," she told him again. Honestly, this child was stupid. Would it kill him to go away?

"Think later," he ordered. "Have another cherry and spit the seed."

"I would really—" when she opened her mouth to speak, he put a cherry in her mouth, effectively cutting off her sentence and giving her no choice but to chew it. She did, and found the pit in the centre. She struggled a bit to separate it, but once she had it, she stored it under her tongue while she swallowed the rest, intending to indulge this silly boy so that he'd leave her alone. "Alright," she said, "Now what?"

"You spit," he said, and demonstrated—to her ire—into the pond. However, she realized as she looked around, there was nowhere else to spit it except the grass, but that would make a nasty surprise for someone walking barefoot. Reluctantly, she gathered her air and put the seed on the tip of her tongue, pressed against her lips, and blew.

It didn't go very far, in fact it hardly made it off the rock, but it did go, and to her surprise, she enjoyed it immensely. There was something rather daring about it, breaking the rules like this. She found herself wanting to smile, and before she knew what was happening, she was reaching for another cherry.

"See?" Lyrin grinned, "It's fun!"

She nodded and chewed her berry. This time, now that she knew how to do it, it went a little further. A fish came up from the depths of the pool and swallowed it, and to her horror, Atris's face split into a smile. No, no, no! Calm! There is no emotion! Get that stupid smile off your face, Atris!

But she couldn't. It was stuck there, and it only grew as she spit cherry after cherry into the water until she actually giggled. Then Lyrin spat a seed at her and it bounced off her robed arm, and she glared at him. In retaliation, she shot one back at him, and another, and another, while he returned fire. Finally, laughing, she launched herself at him and bowled him over backwards with her on top, tussling in the grass and spitting cherry seeds at each other. And then one seed was deflected off the boot that had suddenly appeared beside Atris's head. She followed the foot up along the leg with her eyes and at last to a face to find Knight Vrook standing over them disapprovingly.

She scrambled off of Lyrin as though he was red hot, but couldn't stop laughing. The giggles bubbled up from the little box that they'd been locked away in for so long and the flood wouldn't end. She knew she would get in trouble for so many things, but for once, she just didn't care.


	2. How to Love

For as long as she could remember, Atris had always hated cloudless days. Well, she amended, perhaps hate was not a good word, especially since she was a Jedi. So, for as long as she could remember, Atris had always strongly disliked cloudless days. They reminded her of her homeworld, barren and dry and cold. She had only faint memories of it, scattered images and sounds, but she'd seen plenty of pictures and holovids of it and they were sufficient to convince her that it was not a place she wanted to live. Coruscant had always felt far more like home than Echan, anyway.

She sighed and turned away from the window, pulling the blinds shut as she retreated into the interior of her apartment. She sat down on her bed and pulled the stack of datapads on the bedside table toward her. She spread them out around her and looked at the first line of each until she came to one she hadn't read yet, but once she'd gotten three paragraphs in, she let it flop down onto her lap and fell backwards to stare at the ceiling, too energized to study.

Yes, too energized to study, and she was lying flat on her back like a dead body, completely still. She shook her head slightly with a little smile and rolled to one side, wincing as a datapad dug into her hip. She hadn't had any physical activity all day, and her legs were itching for a run. So why not just go? Because she'd agreed to go with Lyrin, her friend of many years, and he hadn't shown up yet. She glanced at the chronometer. He was now… one hour and twenty-three minutes late. She groaned quietly and ran a hand through her hair.

She toyed with the freshly-cut strands, still exploring the new, crisp ends that hung a couple of inches above her shoulders. It hadn't been her idea or her intention to cut it so short, but when a chunk had accidentally been lopped off during lightsaber training the day before she'd scheduled her hairdressing appointment, she'd had no choice. It was lighter than she was used to, and she reckoned she hadn't had hair this short since she was four. It was strange-feeling but practical, she supposed, even if the ponytail it made was no more than a stump and large pieces hung down around her face, too short to even be tucked behind her ears for any length of time.

As she lay there, bored out of her mind and internally twitching with excess energy, time crawled away, and finally the doorbell rang. She stood to get it, and was immensely happy to see Lyrin standing there.

"Sorry," he said sincerely, one hand in his hair guiltily, "I got held up coming out of a meditation session with Vandar."

"It's fine," she said dismissively, simply glad that he'd come at last. "Ready to go?"

"Do we have to go running?" he asked. "I was thinking it would be kinda fun if we were to spar for a bit, you know?"

"Alright," she agreed easily and grabbed her lightsaber from her desk. "Shall we?"

"After you," he held one arm out, and she exited the room with him following. The door hissed shut and locked behind them as they marched briskly off down the hall.

"So," he said when he caught up to her, "Don't you want to know what held me up for so long?"

"It was not my business to ask," she pointed out. They hopped into a turbolift. "Sparring rooms," she requested, and the wall panel beeped in acceptance as they began to move.

"Well, then I'll just tell you," Lyrin said, leaning against one wall casually.

"Go ahead," she nodded, smiling.

"I'm—" he frowned and seemed to think better of saying whatever it was. "Never mind. I'll tell you later." He grinned and added, "You'll have to wait, if you can."

"Oh, I think I can contain my enthusiasm," she remarked, not really focussed on what he was saying and bouncing a little on her toes to work out the jitters of anticipation in her legs that always appeared when she was about to spar. She was glad he'd suggested this; it had been _way_ too long since she'd practiced against him. Or anyone, for that matter. Training to take over as head librarian had taken up so much of her time lately, but since one of her major tests had been completed the day before, she had decided to take some time off.

The turbolift slowed gently to a halt and they stepped out to find themselves in the hallway that the majority of the sparring rooms faced out on. Occupied rooms' doors had a little red light, but only a few were taken, and Atris quickly found a free one. They stepped inside and Lyrin shed his robe while she simply pushed up the sleeves of her tunic. They drew their lightsabers and circled each other, grinning.

"Let's go nice and light, just for practice," she suggested. "No points."

"Sure," he shrugged. "You're just scared I'll beat you. But okay, I'll go easy on you."

She laughed. "Scared? Of you? Who was it that beat who last time?"

He shrugged and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "You got lucky. Ready?" She nodded, and the match began.

He moved first, sending a wide sweep to her left side. She blocked it and spun quickly to evade the other end of his lightsaber that swung at her right arm. She had always played defensive in these training battles, never taking any offensive action until she was sure she could get a hit, and today was no different. Except, of course, that she never got her opening, and the fight ended with her back against the wall, their lightsabers pressed together just inches from her face, breathing hard.

"Give up?" he panted, grinning victoriously. She wanted to continue the fight, just to wipe that look off his stupid—no. She was already too tired to avoid sloppy mistakes; they would only end up getting hurt if they continued. She smiled slightly and nodded.

She raised her eyes from the floor, where they'd been modestly residing, as he switched his lightsaber off and they met his. Her cheeks, already warm from the exercise, grew hotter. She'd always known he was handsome, with startlingly clear grey eyes and pitch black hair, but having him this close gave their relationship an entirely new dimension. When he smiled again, she jumped, startled.

"Your hair looks nice like this," he commented lightly, picking up a strand of it and letting it fall again. His face was coming closer, she had to get out of there. She sidestepped and folded her arms self-consciously.

"Lyrin—" she murmured but stopped. If she had no idea what had just happened there, what was she supposed to say about it?

"Yeah," he said, sighing. "Sorry." There was an uncomfortable silence. "Say, want to get something to eat?"

"Sure," she said, breathing a sigh of relief as the tension between them dissipated. He picked up his robe and slipped it on, and they left the training room for the dining hall.

Midway through the afternoon, the tables were close to empty. They picked up some salad and bread and took a table for two by the window. Halfway through eating, Atris asked, "Now will you tell me what held you up for so long?"

His chewing slowed and he looked down at his plate. "I'm… I'm joining Revan's group."

"_What?_" she dropped her fork and stared at him in horror.

"I'm joinin—"

"Why?" she exclaimed. "How could you even _think_ of doing that?"

"It's our duty to help," he pointed out, "I can't stop hating myself as long as I'm here—I'm letting innocents die! I have to help."

"The Council will act when it's needed," she told him, her brow creasing in distress, "Can't you wait until then?"

"It's already needed!" he insisted, "By the time they deem something's wrong enough for us to go, so many people will have died."

She bit her lip, seeing the determination in his eyes. "You will be punished for defying them like this," she said quietly, looking away from him.

"I know," he replied, "but still I have to go."

"It's dangerous," she whispered. "What if—what if you d—?" she took a ragged breath. "You're my friend, Lyrin. I care about you. I don't want to lose you."

His large hand closed over her slender fingers where they lay on the table. "It'll be okay," he promised, "I'll be fine. I'll just be gone for a while, and then I'll be back and everything will be just like it was before. It's okay."

"It's not okay!" she cried, "I don't want you to be gone for even a few years! And you don't know that you won't get hurt or worse. What if you don't come back?"

"Then you'll find new friends," he said softly, "And you'll forget about me."

"I don't want to forget about you!" she felt her eyes stinging as she struggled against tears. "You're—I don't have any other friends like you. I never will."

Gently, he took her face between his hands, leaning over the small table between them. "You're not going to lose me. Even if I don't come back, you'll always have me right here." He brushed a finger over her heart, then shook his head with a chuckle. "I sound so cheesy, don't I?"

She laughed, too, albeit a little feebly. "Yes," she agreed, squeezing his hand and watching their entwined fingers. After a moment, she murmured. "Please don't go."

"I have to," he said, "I'm sorry."

She drew her hand away and stood, taking his plate as well as hers, "Are you really?" Why couldn't he just stay, let Revan and Malak and all their lot get themselves killed but keep himself safe? It wasn't his way to do something like that, but couldn't he do it for her? Couldn't he see how much he was hurting her? Swiftly, she walked to the dish-return and put theirs in it, then headed for the exit.

She got all the way to her room with a very well maintained mask of calm over her face and tried to be thankful that he hadn't followed her. In truth, she was disappointed that he hadn't, but the lack of his presence meant that she had avoided breaking down into tears in front of everyone. Now, though, she was inside, hidden, where they couldn't see her, and she sunk down onto the floor. Still, she cried only in her mind

It wasn't until she heard the door open that she remembered that Lyrin knew her passcode. She was sitting on the floor, back against the low bed, one knee tucked up to her chest and the other leg sprawled out in front of her. She was more of a wreck than she could ever recall being, except, perhaps, that time she'd crashed a speeder four years ago during a mission on Duron 4, and she was too dazed and exhausted to move when he came into her apartment. She raised her eyes to his, but that was it.

"Atris…" he knelt before her and took her hands. She knew her face was blotchy and now she felt like crying again, this time aloud, and she wanted to hide it. To cry was to lose all control and to lose all control was shameful, and finally she found the energy to turn her head away. When he tilted her face back toward him with two fingers, she used the Force to slap his hand away.

"I don't want to talk to you," she whispered.

"I can see that," he replied, but didn't leave. "I want you to understand why I'm leaving, and I want a proper goodbye, as much for my sake as yours."

_I understand that you want to defy the Council. I understand that you want to abandon me. I understand that you want to get yourself killed!_ All that came out was, "I already understand."

"No, you don't," he said almost forcefully, "If you did, you wouldn't be like this. I'm leaving because—"

"I don't want to hear it!" she cried, suddenly finding her voice. "You're abandoning the Council and you're abandoning your masters and you're abandoning all your friends! Nothing you say will change that!"

"I'm not abandoning them," he returned, "I'd be betraying the Council and my masters and everything that I've ever learned by staying more than I would by leaving."

"And what about your friends?" she demanded, biting her lip as she continued her battle against tears. "You wouldn't be betraying them."

"Yes, I would," he insisted. "I have friends who are already out fighting with Revan."

"Then…" she stumbled a bit, struggling to find her courage, "Then… what about me?"

He seemed to deflate a little, and put a tender hand to her face. "Atris… please… I'm not betraying you, please see that."

She shook her head tearfully. "I can't. Just don't go, Lyrin. Don't go!"

His eyes searched hers for a long moment, and then his thumb moved on her cheek, just the faint ghost of a caress, and he stood. "I have to," he said quietly, heading for the door. "See you on the flipside, Atris."

When or how she managed to get to her feet so quickly was beyond her. All she knew was that she was calling out for him to stop before he could go beyond the threshold, and he stopped. By some Force-granted miracle, he stopped. And he turned around.

She had to pluck the pieces of her courage from where they lay, shattered, around her, before she could step forward, arms outstretched. "You weren't really—" her voice cracked and her tears broke free of their restraints, "—going to go without goodbye, were you?"

Immediately, he swept her into his arms, completely encompassing her small body in his strong embrace. "No," he murmured into her ear, "No, of course not."

She sobbed a bit and clutched the scratchy fabric of his cloak in her two tightly balled fists, trying to brand the memory of him at this moment into her mind—the feel of his arms around her, the faint smell of sweat from their earlier exercise, and his heartbeat against her cheek…

Slowly, she drew away, wiping her eyes and looking up at him. This was it, wasn't it? It seemed surreal. He opened his mouth to speak. "Goodb…" he trailed off as something changed in his face, something new appearing in his eyes.

That new something took physical form in a most unexpected way. One moment, she'd been staring up at him, the next, her eyes were closed and his mouth was on hers, gentle and loving but still chaste. He pulled back and she opened her eyes, but only for a moment. The next, she'd stood on tiptoes to close the already-small gap between them.

And then she was winding her arms around his neck and he was backing toward her bed and she'd given him a reason to stay.

The morning, though, would be what would really tell her his decision, and all it brought her was a cold, empty bed.


End file.
